Gut Gutterman rubs his tuppence and moans,
“When I saw the truth, they said I was mad!
I now know such truth can never be shown –
But a fiction can fake the true vision I had!”
Gut Gutterman knows, his gut sees the day
When hundreds or more will fill the town square
To hear his Gut Speech, then go The Four Ways
Spreading one real illusion, one story to share.
“Now each has their own, which means none are true!”
He says to himself, “One fiction is fine!
“Just pick one! It’s silly! Any will do!”
(He addresses the world as if it has one mind.)
Illusions, he knows, can only be right
When common – he’ll stitch one myth to the next
While standing above them, fitting them tight
Giving orders as townsfolk assemble The Text.
And so the day comes: The Market Day Dance!
When all the town’s products leap from the shelves
And circle the square to jumble their brands
With the help of consumers expressing their “selves.”
So Gut mounts the column, bows the Four Points
Then grips his glass globe to scry what to say.
The logos below he moves to anoint,
When a shriek of white feedback erupts from the stage.
The Chamberlain Commerce taps the hot mike
As troops spew bright shekels over the crowd.
“LET’S HEAR IT FOR SILVER! BUY WHAT YOU LIKE!
CAN I HEAR SOME MORE NOISE? CAN I HEAR YOU GET LOUD?”
“LET’S DANCE THROUGH THE MARKET! MARKET DAY RULES!
TOGETHER WE CAN! NOW EVERYONE SCREAM!
OUR THREAD QUILTS THE MARKET! WE ARE THE JEWELS!
WE HAVE STORIES TO TELL! WE ARE LIVING THE DREAM!”
Gut uses his pence to cover his eyes.
The lived dream travels through him, and he dies.